


The Oldest Profession

by ellerkay



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Murder, Not As Dark As The Tags Make It Sound, mentions prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack needs to learn to count.</p><p>Challenge from <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-P"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://nevacaruso.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://nevacaruso.livejournal.com/"></a><b>nevacaruso</b>, who wanted to see these two characters interact</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oldest Profession

Jack was beginning to think that he had picked the wrong room.

He was ashore for a week or so; it was time to pick up new supplies and give the crew a bit of a break (Jack himself could have kept on sailing forever), and find a new opportunity for adventure.

Jack had had a few drinks. “A few drinks,” for Jack, was about the equivalent of “goodness I seem to have mislaid my kneecaps” for most people. He was well-funded after his latest run; nonetheless, he was rather annoyed that the only women in Tortuga were for hire. Most nights, he could flirt his way into a tumble with no charge, but the women of the night he’d sauntered up to so far had been surprisingly no-nonsense. Jack dealt almost exclusively in nonsense, and so he finally went to a brothel, paid his shillings out, and was directed to a room.

The drinks he’d had muddled with Jack’s memory, and when he got to the second floor he went into the fourth room on the left instead of the fifth. He began to suspect something was amiss immediately upon entering.

The woman who reclined on the bed of the small room was beautiful, no doubt. She had long brown hair, so dark it was almost black, and very large brown eyes, and whatever powder she was wearing made her look paler than any woman Jack had ever seen. But she was thin as a rail (where most of the whores Jack knew made a great effort to at least appear curvy and buxom), and she was fully dressed (where most whores would be naked on the bed or at least letting their dresses hang off their shoulders), and she was merely gazing at him with an uncanny look in her eyes (where most whores would be bouncing up eagerly to service him).

“Where is your ship?” the woman asked suddenly, with a thick Cockney accent.

The question surprised Jack and unnerved him still more. How had she known he had a ship? “She’s out in the harbor,” he replied. “Awaiting her next journey.”

The woman sat up slowly, smiling as if they shared a secret. “You will never love another,” she said in a confidential tone.

Jack wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but decided that he wanted to tag along for the right. She was _very_ pretty.

“What’s your name, luv?” he asked, gold teeth glinting in the lamplight.

“I have had many names,” the woman replied. “Once I was daughter, and sister, and once it was almost a different Sister. Black and white and no one would ever touch me again.” She stared into space as if seeing the distant past. “Now I am pet and love and goddess and…Drusilla.”

“Drusilla?” Jack had taken a long drink from the flask at his hip at the beginning of this speech, and hadn’t tuned in again until just in time to hear her name. He grinned again and walked slowly towards her. He sat down on the bed and touched her cheek, which was surprisingly cool. “That’s a beautiful name, luv.”

“In the eye of the beholder,” Drusilla said dreamily. She leaned in close, putting her face near Jack’s neck and inhaling deeply. She pulled away again and looked intently at him.

“You smell of the ocean,” she told him. “Mermaids and wind and passion and freedom. Is there salt water in your veins? Will I taste it?”

“Of course,” Jack agreed, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. Her eyes suddenly reminded Jack of white-tipped waves cresting and falling as he stared into them.

Without shifting her gaze, Drusilla picked up Jack’s wrist and pressed her lips to it. The tip of her wet tongue touched his pulse, and she smiled.

“You taste of coconuts and rum,” she told him. She looked at him curiously for a moment, then smiled beatifically. “You shall sail the seas forever, just as you have always dreamed. Don’t fret – you’ll find a way to thank me.”

She kissed him gently. Jack’s head was spinning – for once, he knew, not from the rum – and when she bent his head to the side, baring his neck, he let her move it without protest. Deep within him, Jack’s infallible sense of danger and instinct for self-preservation were screaming to him to get out of the room. But Jack was wrapped in the dreamy waves of Drusilla’s eyes, and he only gasped and felt his cock hardening as she bit deeply into his neck.

***

When he woke up, Jack was in the same room, alone. It was still dark, and he wondered how long he’d been asleep. His head felt strange. This, Jack realized, was what it was like to wake up without a hangover. He sat up fast, feeling oddly light and strong. His skin was chilled, and that bothered him somehow. He was hungry, and he wanted to warm up.

Jack remembered vaguely meeting the odd and beautiful Drusilla. He wondered if it might have been a dream. His question was answered a moment later when he went out into the hallway. There was a prostitute passing, and though she was not particularly pretty, Jack felt suddenly that she was the most beautiful creature he’d even seen. Faster than thought, he reached out as she passed, pulled her to him, and sank fangs he didn’t know he had deep into her neck. Head whirling, he drank deeply, blood pouring down his throat. Instinctively, he’d covered her mouth, and in less than a minute she was dead.

Jack pulled his head up, feeling his face flex somehow, like nothing he’d felt before. He shifted some of the whore’s weight to his hip and touched his face with his free hand. It felt normal. Shrugging, he picked up the woman again, brought her into the room he’d just vacated, and put her under the bed. That should buy him a little time.

Captain Jack Sparrow ambled casually out of the brothel, winking at the woman at the desk, his mind working furiously all the time. He tried to decide who among his crew he could trust to captain the ship by day, and keep his secret. Anna Maria seemed the most likely candidate, but it would take some careful maneuvering to keep this from getting out. He sighed. It was going to be a real pain.

Behind him came a minute noise, a scrape of heel against cobblestones that he never would have heard if he’d still been human. In a heartbeat Jack had whirled around, sword at the throat of the man about to jump out of the alleyway and, probably, stab and rob him. The man looked surprised and began coughing loudly.

“Lovely evening for a stroll, cap’in,” he stuttered, and hurried away.

Jack grinned. Well, there were certainly going to be some advantages to this new situation.

He set off again, whistling cheerfully. And, of course, he had a new mission now. Find the lovely Drusilla; as soon, of course, as he had figured out how to thank her. That was going to be tricky.

But he had plenty of time to work it out. He could sail on forever now.


End file.
